beware of the raven –
there, right under his wing,
treasure lies –
the breath of wind.
he hides it there
when he solitary rests
on some oak branch.
in silence,
he warms up wind’s ribs
next to his own,
taming with his pulse
wind’s youthful impatience.
and when the time is right,
raven and wind
father flight and awe,
uncaring whether your pupil
is round enough to mirror
their concentric togetherness.



© Liliana Negoi

One Response to “corvus”
  1. I can never ignore a black bird’s cry, nor fail to watch one fly past me. I love how you captured the sinister arrogance of the raven, and described it in its own beauty.

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